Reprise.

So, after a discussion last week as brief as the one we had in 2003 when it was first suggested we might venture onto the Internet, Guy and I are once again going to make an attempt at having a blog. This blog. Together. And I didn't even need to hold him close and whisper, "come back to me". Not even once.

It's been, like, two years since there was proper blogging here. I realise that is my fault. And there's been heaps of good stuff in the meantime, stuff that I wish I had written about here so that I could know now what I liked and when - and whether those tastes and enthusiasms stood the test of that shaming devil, time. But, oh well. I was lazy. And I realise the neighbourhood has really cleared out by now too, but we two are creeping back anyway.

Not a lot has changed with me. I still spend a lot of my time at 3CR Community Radio. I attend rather a lot of public meetings. I frequent live music but am in no way inside the scene. I don't read nearly enough books.

On Saturday I went to this workshop about US militarisation in the Pacific. So tomorrow on the 3CR Tuesday Breakfast Show I'll be playing some of what I recorded; Maki Yonaha talking about the impacts of US military bases in Okinawa, and Lisa Natividad talking about the Chamoru people of Guam and their resistance to the US military build-up on their land - currently there are plans to move thousands of US Marines from Okinawa to Guam. Also, a few weeks ago I went to hear Anu Muhammad speak about Bangladesh and the impacts of climate change and development policy, so I'll be playing him tomorrow too. 3CR's Radiothon prevented me broadcasting him any earlier, hint.

Much much earlier this morning, I was editing a charming discussion of rape and fistulas in the Democratic Republic of Congo for Radio New Internationalist. Now I'm idling through the last part of my reception shift at CASA House before heading to Polyester to buy tickets to Wintertones. Later in the week, I'll be attending Kimya Dawson.

You know what I love? Flaked almonds. They make everything better, especially salad.

Kylie: a defence

A rant I prepared earlier, which now seems relevant after drunken Karaoke crooning ("come on and dance with me... slow.... reeeeaaad my.... body language"):

Another article celebrating a Kylie milestone that paints her as vapid, controlling and talentless, questioning why she hasn't yet revealed her "true self" to the world. The implication is that, because she's "deflecting personal questions and dodging controversy", she either has something to hide, or has nothing to hide, in that she's concealing some horrible and secret emptiness.

Unsurprisingly I disagree with this equation. I think that Kylie's reluctance to reveal anything of her personal life is actually out of some kind of deference to the persona she has created. I think that Kylie actually has an acute understanding of the mechanics of celebrity - albeit an understanding helped along by the sci-fi and increasingly man-meat obsessed William Baker.

Kylie understands that this "thing" she is created is something separate to herself, and as much a creation of others (fans included) as it is her own creation. This isn't to deny her talent - her talent is in tending this creation, and in performing. She reveals herself in her theatricality, not through personal revelation. This does not make her empty! So enough of these predictable Saturday magazine-type articles grudgingly acknowledging her longevity, but not her talent.